


Champagne and Subway

by Evren Rambunctious (DHume)



Category: Skulduggery Pleasant - Derek Landy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 08:36:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1143854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DHume/pseuds/Evren%20Rambunctious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First date fic, set in a world where LSODM never happened, la-la-la-Valkyrie-is-definitely-legal-and-everything-is-happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Champagne and Subway

Skulduggery fiddled with his cuffs awkwardly. 

“I look like a Russian oligarch,” he whined, skull turning toward Ghastly beseechingly. 

“I’m hideous. I look like- oh, God.” He dropped his cuffs and flung his arms up to the heavens. “I look like I’m from the eighties!”

Ghastly walked back from the pile of discarded shirts, tutting. 

“Skulduggery, you said, and I quote, that you wanted to dress with a bit of ‘pizazz’, and that you wanted to look different and impressive. Now, much as I disapprove of this venture, I’m fulfilling your wishes, so-“

“I know,” Skulduggery cut in. “I just… There’s nothing _perfect_. Ghastly. Nothing’s right. I’m trying too hard. Am I trying too hard? I never even wear red. It bleaches me, you know.”

His monologue continued with no interruptions as Ghastly fitted the shirt, deftly pinning and marking where the fabric would be darted and nipped to hide Skulduggery’s lack of muscle and fat. He was still talking when Ghastly tapped him on the clavicles, the signal to take the shirt ready to be altered off. He didn’t even pause as he unbuttoned the front and sleeves and shrugged it off, careful not to disturb the pinning, instead engaging in a one-man question and answer session about how he and this whole idea was and on the concept of the colour red in general.

 

An hour later, Ghastly was three cups of tea down and Skulduggery’s new suit was ready, and he still hadn’t stopped. Ghastly would gesture for a new cup of tea, or thread out of his reach, and Skulduggery would fetch or make it for him, only requiring the occasional ‘hmm’ or ‘yes’  to continue his rant.

Eventually, when the sky had begun to darken and everything was ready, Ghastly pushed Skulduggery out of the door with the freshly folded stack of clothes. “Have fun, and stop worrying. Valkyrie might realise that you’re not a suave and brilliant, confident person. Oh, wait-- she _never_ thought that of you.”

Skulduggery dipped his head in that way of his, the closest he could come to a smile without the help of China Sorrows’ facades. “Thank you, Ghastly. I’m calm now. I’m fine. I’m great. Your work is, as ever, exceptional.”

“Good. Now get out of my shop, it’s getting late. When are you meeting her, again?”

Ghastly could have sworn Skulduggery levitated several inches off the ground. “Very soon! I must. Go. Yes.”

He watched as Skulduggery folded himself into the Bentley and practically screeched off down the road, then went inside. For once, he felt sorry for Valkyrie.

—

Valkyrie Cain was sitting in Gordon’s house, packing what could only be described as a sleepover bag. 

Just because she and Skulduggery were trying this — she could barely say the D-word in her head, let alone aloud — _date_ thing, it didn’t mean that the magical community were putting their crimes on hold. The next day they were due to drive further down the coast to investigate a theft, and Valkyrie didn’t want to be stuck without a toothbrush just because she was having a night out. It had happened enough times on cases before that she was already convinced that tooth decay was imminent, so she compromised; hot … _date_ outfit  in the car, warm pyjamas and a _full set of toiletries_ in the trunk. 

Sure, she thought, hunting for her mouthwash, staying over straight after they were having a fancy dinner was a little weird, but Skulduggery had gotten it into his head that this evening had to be a perfect evening, and who was Valkyrie to argue? There might be fancy champagne, and she got to wear a dress. Just because she would have been happy with Netflix and pizza didn’t mean that she was going to turn down the possibility of _champagne_.

The dress in question was a deep, foresty green, long and figure-hugging in a modest enough but sexy way that Valkyrie definitely liked. For once, it wasn’t something made or bought for her by one of her colleagues. Valkyrie thought Skulduggery would probably have gone to Ghastly for a whole new outfit, or something ridiculous, and couldn’t face the thought of them wearing something matching, or anything, so had bought something nice from Topshop. It set off her brown eyes and skin beautifully. Really, it was such a good colour on her, she’d wear it more often if it were, well, _black_.

 

It was just over an hour until Skulduggery was due to pick her up. Bag all packed at last, Valkyrie went into one of the huge, mirror-bedecked bathrooms to put her makeup and dress on, playing the radio on her phone to let Gordon know she was in there and also to provide some much-needed soundtrack to her makeover montage. 

God, she’d been watching too many movies. This is what piggybacking on your partners’ streaming service would do to you. 

Valkyrie stepped into the dress and zipped it up, reaching for her makeup bag. She’d gotten a lot better with it over the years. Much less likely to stab herself in the eye with mascara, though cat-eyes were still a bit beyond her. One day, she said aloud to herself in the mirror, and clenched a fist, laughing. She was looking forward to dinner — she was starving.

—-

 

A little over an hour later, Valkyrie was ready. She sat by the front door, perched on a chair with her bag ready and her hair immaculate, playing angry birds while she waited. There was a knock; a knock where, years ago, Skulduggery had kicked the same door off its hinges.

Valkyrie sat up, and went to open it before Gordon could beat her. 

Stood in the doorway, holding a small — very small, mind you — bunch of flowers was Skulduggery. He was wearing a shirt with the barest hint of blue in it, a blue suit, and a yellow tie made out of an unusual fabric. Knitted? Valkyrie didn’t know, or care, because the overall effect was stunning. He looked even better than usual, which was really saying something. Even though the two of them looked like they’d picked their outfits out of a paint palette…

“We match,” said Skulduggery, voice lower than ever with horror. “I’m so sorry. I.” Words seemed to fail him. “I brought some flowers. I know it’s a stupid outdated custom, so they’re for putting in a vase, carrying them around all night would be silly. Shall I get one? A vase, I mean. I know where Gordon keeps them.” 

He swept past Valkyrie into the house proper, having not even given her the flowers, which looked horrifyingly fancy, now Valkyrie had time to see them.  She walked back in after him. 

“A good evening would have been nice,” she said, mock-annoyed. 

Skulduggery _pivoted_ , there was no other word for it, swinging violently around from the sink with the vase, which slopped water over the sides. He didn’t seem to notice. Valkyrie had never seen him in such a fluster before. 

“I didn’t even give these to you, did I?”

“Valkyrie shook her head, smiling. 

“I. Right. I need to start again.” He put the flowers into their vase, arranged them, and then walked over to Valkyrie, thrusting the entire thing into her hands. 

“Good evening, Miss Cain. I brought you some flowers. Oh, look, they’re already in a vase. Let’s go off to dinner, then, oh, I’m so organised and suave. How was your day? Mine was uneventful.”

Valkyrie shook her head in wonder. 

“These flowers are lovely. Good evening, I had a great day. The folks are doing well.” She put the vase down on a table, picked up her little beaded clutch, and gestured for Skulduggery to take the overnight bag, which he did. He started to walk back towards the door, Valkyrie following, until -

She smacked her head. “Hang on, I forgot. Gordon!”

Gordon popped his head through the door to the living room. He’d been there all along, but at least had the grace to look sheepish. 

“Hello there, favourite niece. Who’s this knave trying to sneak you out of my house?”

Valkyrie barely repressed the urge to groan. Sometimes, Gordon was exactly like her father.

Gordon cleared his throat, and tried to look serious. 

“Skulduggery, I know I am not Valkyrie’s dad, but since if I were her dad I would currently be screaming ‘Oh no, a skeleton, why is he walking around, what’s going on, is it the Rapture’, I feel like this is my duty to say: no funny business.”

Valkyrie just looked at him. She wanted to die, but Gordon continued on.

“No hanky panky. No getting fresh with this young lady, do you hear?“

Skulduggery nodded gravely. 

“Of course not.”

Gordon looked satisfied. 

“Good! Okay, then. Have fun. Drink expensive alcohol for me, Valkyrie,” he added, looking wistful. “For Skulduggery and I, at least. Someone has to waste some money on flashy drink around here if we can’t.”

Valkyrie grinned. Oh, she was in for the champagne. This was happening.

“Okay, Gordon! Bye!”

They headed toward the car, finally, and Valkyrie had to wait whilst Skulduggery stowed her bag and insisted on holding the door open for her, like he didn’t cart her around from case to case half-awake and drooling  in the same car. 

“I’m holding you to the promise to splash cash around on fancy champagne for me,” Valkyrie informed him, buckling her seatbelt on carefully as not to rumple her dress.

“I wouldn’t ever have expected anything different.”

—

They arrived at the venue just after eight. They hadn’t spoken much on the car ride over: Valkyrie could practically feel the air vibrating with Skulduggery’s nervousness, and she spent the short journey trying to guess where they were going before they got there, every now and then darting her eyes over to look at Skulduggery in his suit or asking him questions to which she got short answers. Eventually they had arrived at somewhere tucked down a side street close to the middle of Dublin, all lighting and small tables. An intimate setting.

Skulduggery almost exploded out of the parked car in his rush to open the door for her, activating his facade on the way. Valkyrie shook her head up at him from the car window. He shuffled through a few until she held up her hand on one option — a face with high, sharp cheekbones and full lips. Valkyrie threw him a thumbs up enthusiastically and the new face quirked an eyebrow at her.

“We’ve arrived. I mean, this is it. Where we’re eating.”

Valkyrie took his proffered arm and lifted herself out of the car. 

“It looks nice,” she said, smiling at him. “Are you jealous?”

Skulduggery made a noise something like a snort. “I’m sure if I remembered what eating was like I would be. Let’s go in, shall we?”

Valkyrie nodded in assent. They went in, a snappily dressed waitress greeting them at the door. She had beautiful dark hair like Valkyrie’s that she had cropped into a bob, and a smiling face. She quickly led them through the maze almost entirely made up of tables-for-two and set them by a wall far from the window and the counter. Skulduggery could almost have deactivated his facade, it was so private. The nearest table was metres away.

The waitress bustled away as they sat down. Thankfully Skulduggery didn’t even try to help seat her. There were no menus.

“So… What’s for dinner?”

Skulduggery cleared his fake throat.  

“It’s a set menu. Is that all right? A surprise?”

Valkyrie considered it, raised an eyebrow, and nodded. “Yeah, I’m not in the mood for mangling italian or whatever the menu would have been written in anyway. I know you like to make fun of how uncultured I am-“

“Well, if the shoe fits-“

“So that’s fine.” She smiled, again, suddenly realising how ridiculous this was. Even if she was at what was probably the fanciest restaurant in Dublin on a… date, it didn’t seem real. She half expected Skulduggery to stand up, tell her he’d gotten the clue they needed for the latest case from the kitchen, and have to change back into her work clothes. No, she was being silly. She should just enjoy this fancy date and not think about work. She looked great, Skulduggery looked great, and they were going on a date like two normal adult people. 

Oh god, she had no idea what normal adult people did. She’d started dating Fletcher when she was younger, and Caelan hadn’t counted, and now here she was nearly nineteen and she hadn’t done anything that normal nineteen year olds did. What fork was she supposed to use? There were two sets. That was too many forks. Was she supposed to have salad or something? What if Skulduggery had just ordered plates and plates of leafy food and she had to eat all of it? What if they went to a bar or something, after, and Skulduggery ended up getting punched in his fake face?

“Are you alright, Valkyrie? You look a bit pale. Green, really.”

Valkyrie looked up at Skulduggery, nodding manically. “Yep! I’m great! Just excited about the food. So excited. Especially about the forks. Not sure which ones you use…”

“You use the outside sets and work your way in, Ghastly informs me.” Skulduggery’s lips twitched. “I wouldn’t worry about it. If I could eat, I’d be using my fingers!” He laughed, a little nervously. Valkyrie realised that he was probably freaking out just as much as she was, and felt a little better. And hungrier. She would even eat leafy greens, as long as there was a big steak or something to go with it. 

Soon after Valkyrie had satisfied herself with the cutlery situation, the beautiful waitress arrived back with what looked like very expensive champagne and poured a glass for both of them. Skulduggery tried what he obviously thought was a wink at Valkyrie as her back was turned. The effect was a bit horrible, but she appreciated the effort.

“You followed through on your promise!” Valkyrie said, as soon as the woman had left. 

“Well, I couldn’t let Gordon down, could I. He was very emphatic…”

“Ugh, don’t even talk to me about what Gordon said. He’s a very embarrassing uncle. It’s a trial, really,” Valkyrie said dramatically. “Can I guess what the food is going to be?”

“No, you can’t. It’ll be arriving soon. How hungry even are you?”

“It’s pasta.”

“Not biting.”

“Fish.”

“Can’t say.”

“Chinese.”

“Not going to say, Valkyrie. I like the dress. It doesn’t look like a Bespoke, though.”

“It’s not,” Valkyrie said smugly, smoothing the beautiful green material. She could forgive the blatant subject change. “I can dress myself sometimes.”

Skulduggery raised an eyebrow. 

“I never said otherwise.”

“I know,” Valkyrie said, sipping her champagne. “Wow, this tastes delicious. Bet you wish you could try it.” She considered him a moment, waving the glass in his general direction. “I like your tie, too. It’s made of something I’ve never seen ties be made of before, though. What it is?” She narrowed her eyes. It _was_ strange.  
  


"It's knitted silk. So it's not woollen, but it has the texture of knit."

“Wow. Cool. Weird. So, is it pizza?”

Skulduggery looked like he was trying not to laugh, which was new for him, but nice. 

Valkyrie liked him having a face sometimes, even if she would never tell him so. Eyebrows were useful, but sometimes the faces could be _awful_.

“I’m not telling you. Let’s talk about something other than food, for once.”

“For once,” Valkyrie echoed, mocking his tone of voice. She sipped more of the delicious champagne. “So, what about the case tomorrow?” 

“How about we don’t talk about work either? I mean, we can, but from my limited experience with-“ Valkyrie snorted into her glass, then quickly tried to turn it into a cough, “dating, it’s a little boring.”

Valkyrie tried to stop fake-coughing-that-had-turned-into-real-coughing-when-she-inhaled-champagne for a few seconds, then held up a finger. 

“What am I supposed to say, ‘tell me about yourself?’ We’ve got all the important things covered; living skeleton, supervillianous necromancer, neurotic classic car owner, good in bar fights. Which, wow, I shouldn’t really know, but, bar fights are pretty fun. And you know my story!”

“I don’t know about any new music you like. Or any films?”

“That’s because you won’t let me play anything that isn’t a tape in the Bentley, and you won’t talk about any film that doesn’t have Buster Keaton or Monaco Princess lady.”

“Uh, her name is actually Grace Kelly…”

Valkyrie stuck her tongue out quickly, when she knew the waitress wasn’t looking. “I know, I know. I like messing with you. It’s weird seeing you blush, though, um.” She trailed off. This was beginning to be all flirty, and woah, she was way out of her depth. This was so adult. She knew she was an adult in the real sense, yes, like doing a real job that saved lives and all that hat, but not at knowing which fork to use or engage in sophisticated banter. Flirty banter. She gulped her champagne to hide her face and then realised how fast she was drinking it, and put it down hastily.

“So, how was seeing Ghastly? Did you have a nice chat about stuff? I’m not sure what stuff you two talk about when you haven’t got much to do. Cars? Fancy ladies?”

Skulduggery blushed a bit, again. 

“Ah, actually no. I rather dominated the entire afternoon. I wasn’t nervous, of course, but a lesser man would have been. I think Ghastly expected me to be, you know, so I just indulged him.”

“Ah,” Valkyrie nodded, smiling again. She couldn’t stop smiling for some reason. “I see. You weren’t really nervous, though, right.”

“Nope.”

“Good.”

Valkyrie was beginning to feel a lot better. This wasn’t flirting, this was just like talking! Like they did every day. Funny banter, making her smile constantly, making her chest feel warm and…

Oh.

She suddenly looked at the past three years — possibly more — in a different light. Comments from many people over the years flashed through her head and made a lot more sense. Damn.

Still, they’d reached this point and nothing had gone wrong. Yet. But where was the food?

“Um, Skulduggery, I don’t want you to think I have a one-track mind, but-“

“But…”

“Where’s the food?”

Skulduggery looked like he was about to freak out. 

“I’m sorry! It’s been awhile, hasn’t it.” He checked his watch, started again, and rose up from his chair. “I’ll check. Sorry. I’ll be back. Right,” and walked off as fast as it was humanly possible to move and still have both feet on the ground. Valkyrie leaned out of her seat to watch him go. It was more of a jog, really. A nervous jog. He looked very dashing, actually. Very nice, and colourful. Usually his suits tended towards the nice, but a little more boring. He’d made a lot of effort, and Valkyrie privately wondered just how much he’d bent Ghastly’s ear about this evening. Hopefully Ghastly wouldn’t judge him too much, she reflected, her hand on her chin as she watched Skulduggery disappear into the distant kitchen. 

There was a sound of crashing pots, and swearing, and Valkyrie swore she could see fire as the swinging door shut behind Skulduggery. What the hell was going on?

No sooner had the crashing stopped than the beautiful waitress was back, all smiles.

“I’m so, so sorry, madam, but there’s been a fire in the kitchen. Your gentleman friend,” Valkyrie raised an eyebrow before she could stop herself at this, “is absolutely fine, don’t you worry, but unfortunately we’re going to have close the kitchens for the rest of the week. Of course, we will do everything possible to compensate for the convenience, including a bottle of free champagne…”

Valkyrie stopped listening, mentally jumping for joy instead. She was free. She was free of the forks!

“That’s fine, that’s fine, thanks so much. I’m sure my friend will be out soon.” She smiled at the women and was rewarded with a dazzling, relieved smile back. Something must have really gone wrong in the kitchens.

Skulduggery appeared. 

“There’s no food, I’m afraid.” Valkyrie tried to look crestfallen for his benefit, but barely succeeded. He looked so frustrated, and she probably would have been eating incredibly fancy steak or something, but all she wanted was-

“It’s fine. Why don’t we catch a subway on the way home? We still have our champagne. Well,” she smirked, “my champagne. The waitress is throwing in a free bottle for the inconvenience, she said.”

Skulduggery looked unconvinced. 

“Come on, I know you organised this, but it’s the thought that counts. And it was a great thought! I’ve already had a good start to the evening, and subway is only going to improve that,” she wheedled. 

“We were going to go dancing,” Skulduggery said in a rush, almost sulkily. 

Valkyrie laughed. “We still can! You have so many living rooms, I’ll turn one of them into a ballroom! With subway! It’ll be the best two-man party ever.”

—

“Please wait until I can get that home and onto a plate to eat it.”

“But it smells soooo good.”

“I’ll take your word for it. From what I saw, you crammed as much meat and as many gross sauces as you could into that foot of bread, so it’s screaming mustard leakage. Not in my car, thank you.”

“But my stomach is rumbling. Can you hear that? It’s rumbling for the subway. My subway cravings are a matter of life and death, Skulduggery. I’m fading away…”

“I’d forgotten how melodramatic you got when you were hungry,” Skulduggery muttered, turning into his driveway. “Here we are. Out you get with that disgusting creation.”

“It’s my baby and I love it,” Valkyrie said in the most dignified manner she could muster, stepping out of the car and clutching the wrapped sandwich to her chest. 

Skulduggery locked the car and opened the front door for her. Now this, she didn’t mind. Having most things done for her was absolutely fine by Valkyrie. She immediately made a beehive for the kitchen and plonked the sandwich down on the nearest plate, tearing at the wrapping. She lifted it to her mouth, turning away from Skulduggery so that she could have a moment. A tender, gluttonous moment with her baby. As soon as the entire thing had been consumed, she reached for a glass of water and downed that too, letting out an audibly sigh of contentment. Skulduggery was already washing up the plate, jacket off and sleeves neatly folded around his elbows. She handed him the glass and went to get one of the tea towels. 

“Do you want tea?”

“Yes please,” Valkyrie said with feeling. “But first, dancing!” She grabbed Skulduggery, tearing him away from the sink. The plate dropped into the sudsy water with an audible ‘ploop’ and the soapy water spattered them both. 

“Oops.”

“Valkyrie, I’m still wearing marigolds.”

“Ah, well, take them off, then! I have eaten and now I must dance.”

“Valkyrie.”

“The dance fever has struck. It must be the MSGs.”

“What are those?” Skulduggery asked, taking careful aim and throwing the rubber gloves in the shape of the sink as well. 

“Ah,  artificial chemical flavourings in food. Very bad for you.”

“I see…”

Valkyrie forcibly grabbed his hands and placed them in the dancing position. “And now we dance.”

Skulduggery very obviously rolled his non-existent eyes, but complied. In the small kitchen, they circled around in an awkward box step, swaying around the little square of lino flooring. 

“See, just as good as a ballroom,” Valkyrie laughed, looking up at him. Skulduggery hummed in agreement as they made another circuit. When they got out of the way of the open dishwasher, he swung her a little and dipped her, careful to avoid the dress’ skirts. 

“This dress really looks exquisite, by the way,” he said in a low voice as he pulled up again, trying a twirl. She spun and tripped, falling a little until he caught and dipped her again. “It’s not too good for your balance though, is it,” he continued, a teasing look on his face. They continued to circle. 

Valkyrie felt magic. Maybe it was the five different kinds of pork products she’d just consumed, maybe it was the champagne, but it seemed like the perfect end to the perfect evening. When she swung out again, she came back in tightly to Skulduggery’s body, reaching up the arm on his shoulder to touch his facade tattoo lightly.

“You forgot to turn this off.”

Skulduggery gulped, though he had no throat with which to swallow. It was that serious. 

“Well, I thought we weren’t done with it, so.”

“We?”

Skulduggery’s arm tightened against her waist reflexively in a way that she liked.

“I. Ah. Valkyrie, don’t make this harder on me. You know what I mean.”

Valkyrie nodded, beaten. She reached up again, and deactivated the facade. 

“Nah, we don’t need it.”

“Are you… Sure?”

She leaned in, forward and up on her tiptoes, and kissed him. Skulduggery tensed up completely, hands around her waist pressing tightly as he froze. She kissed him on the teeth again — which was weird, yeah, she thought, but not disgusting, and hopefully a fun time for him — and stood back away from him, smiling. 

“I had a really great evening,” She said softly, batting his stiff arms away so that she could hug him. “I’m going to change into my pyjamas now, I’m scared I’ll ruin this dress or something. Want to watch a film on the sofa? I brought my laptop.”

Skulduggery could do nothing but nod.

“You get the blanket, then, and you should pick the film” she added, turning towards her room. “But if you hog the blanket again, or make us watch something weird, I am never watching anything with you again.”

Skulduggery nodded again, just watching as she disappeared, before shaking himself and going to hunt for the blanket and a comedy they hadn’t watched for a while. By the time he’d found something suitable by Ben Stiller she was back, curled up on the sofa with the laptop on a coffee table. She shifted up to make space for him and he took his shoes off, sitting down and twitching the blanket over them both. Valkyrie shifted again, getting comfortable against him, and he reached to the play button.

A perfect ending to a perfect night.

**Author's Note:**

> (NB: Since canon is racially ambiguous and Valkyrie is obviously Golshifteh Farahani, in this fic I explicitly mention how great her dark skin looks in the dress. Sorry for any confusion.  
> Also IM SORRY I KEPT FREAKING OUT WHEN I WROTE THIS EVEN IF IT’S OOC BECAUSE SKULDUGGERY WOULD TOTALLY LOSE HIS COOL HE HAS NOT BEEN GETTING ANY FOR AT LEAST A HUNDRED YEARS. Also also for the sentimental ‘years’- that’s the door he KICKED DOWN gordon is THERE TO GIVE HIS BLESSING and basically I am trash. Okay. I’m trash.  
> Also also also I do NOT KNOW HOW TO WRITE DANCING. I CANT DANCE NOR CAN VAL AND SKUL CANNOT IN THE CONFINES OF HIS KITCHEN HE ONLY MADE FOR HIS WIFE OKAY  
> After this fic ends, exactly after this fic ends, skulduggery sits there the entire night with the biggest metaphorial boner. Fun times
> 
> Lastly, I dedicate this fic to the skeleton committee.  
> last author's note: i thought way too much about kissing teeth. also, i kissed my two model skulls. im sorry. im not really.)


End file.
